


A Deep Quiet, A Mad Freedom

by Maab_Connor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Fic Exchange, HP: EWE, M/M, Magic, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maab_Connor/pseuds/Maab_Connor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly a year after the war is over, Harry finds The One. But nothing is ever that simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deep Quiet, A Mad Freedom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sugareey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sugareey).



Draco's trial had been short and behind closed-doors; one of the few Death Eaters who had not been presided over by the full Wizengamot. The outcome had been favorable, the security unbelievably tight. Draco, like his godfather before him, had been a traitor to the Death Eater ranks and thus a war hero.

He had returned to the Manor, despite the terrible memories of its occupation, because he had nowhere else to go. It was too big and too empty. Lucius and Narcissa were still “missing”. Draco doubted he would ever see Lucius again with the shadow of the charges from the first war, but he held out hope for Narcissa. What good was it to save The Boy Who Wouldn’t Bloody Well Die Like Normal People if you still landed in Azkaban? But for now he was rather happy for them, and was telling himself that they were simply taking a well-deserved long holiday.

But still, after weeks of being alone with the house-elves all day, Draco was going spare. And, since he had never been the most self-controlled of people, he stopped heeding the warnings that were all around him and dressed for a night in a noisy club.

***

Harry was happy for his friends, he really was, but the constant pet names and blushing and giggling and running off for a quick snog were really starting to get on his nerves. He knew that they were good for each other and that everyone needed someone to lean on; hell he was already trying to talk jewelry with Hermione just so that when Ron finally realized what everyone else already knew Harry could help him ring shop. But never before had he felt like a third wheel when he was out with his two best friends. And tonight, he was mad at himself for being relieved that they were heading off to Australia to retrieve Hermione’s parents.

Ginny had been hanging around a lot lately. And while Harry had no intention of getting back together with her, but he couldn’t help being happy to see her just so that he didn’t feel so much like an intruder. But she was starting to irritate him with her constant hints and questions and occasional hurt looks.

There was guilt as he walked out of the Leaky that night, feeling that he was a terrible friend and a worse ex. Suddenly there was only one thing for it in Harry’s mind and he made a left rather than a right, going directly into Muggle London.

***

Harry liked that he hadn’t flashed his scar to get in, loved that it didn’t matter at all to most of the people here. There was a booth where he flirted with the cashier as he paid the cover, careful to go into his left pocket where he kept his Muggle money. Rather than a door on the other side, there was a wall of smoke that strobed and lit up in different patterns depending on the lights over the floor. He made his way to the bar where he sat down and ordered a stout as he surveyed the dance floor.

Wall to wall gorgeous men writhing together. Harry loved it. This was one of the few places he felt like he belonged. Only two things had ever really come easily to Harry Potter: Seeking and dancing. In the air he could instinctually do things that others had to practice for years to work out. On the floor he could instinctually roll and sway and move in a way that got him very quickly to the back room. The end result of both was pretty much the same: a slightly sore bum and a feeling of complete freedom.

He finished about half of his drink and made his way out to the floor. He didn’t ask anyone to dance with him, didn’t approach anyone, just got somewhere near the middle, raised his arms and started to move. That’s all it took; that’s all it ever took.

In a matter of moments he was sandwiched between two of the fitter blokes in the club, writhing and gyrating, grinding and groping. When they became a little too grabby, Harry just wiggled out from between them and left them to their own devices, it wasn’t long until he had another.

The second man who came up behind Harry was tentative at first, but when Harry didn’t shy away the man moved in, molded their bodies together. Something inside of Harry relaxed as he and this new man settled in with one another; they seemed to fit in a way Harry had never experienced. The man was taller, but managed to spoon perfectly to Harry, legs and chests and arms, even the way hot breaths came over Harry’s ear. As they got a bit more enthusiastic with each other Harry found that the man’s prick seemed to settle perfectly into the crack of his arse. It was like they had been made for each other.

Harry usually danced with his eyes closed, it had once been a matter of being self conscious and a way to come to terms with the fact that he was turned on by men; now he preferred it, it led to the feeling of escape. At that particular moment, however, it was that he didn’t want to open his eyes and risk spoiling everything. This perfect moment with this perfect man could be shattered if he opened his eyes and saw that the face didn’t match the body. What if this man was somehow deformed? Scarred? Pockmarked? Or if Harry looked and just didn’t feel a spark? Harry Potter, consummate risk taker was scared shitless.

He didn’t fool himself, he had walked through that door with one thing in mind. He knew all about the chemicals that would zing their way through his blood and brain and prick; he wasn’t new, he wasn’t some bright-eyed twink, he wasn’t looking for his One True Love; he rather doubted that he had one. But this was the first time he had felt like there was potential for more, more than just a quick shag in the back room, more than a night at his place or the other guy’s. And it was that potential that frightened him so much.

Arms came around him, not wandering, not groping, just holding. The man hooked his chin on Harry’s shoulder and nuzzled just a bit into his neck. Harry moved his hands from his dance partner’s arse, holding one hand and caressing the other into silky hair. There was a small purr of appreciation.

“I had no idea you could move like this,” the man said in a voice that Harry knew.

He opened his eyes, barely seeing the gyrating mass of men around them. He looked to the hands that held him; the long, almost delicate fingers; the pale skin; the sheet of blond hair that fell around him.

“I had no idea you frequented Muggle clubs,” Harry responded, trying to hide his shock.

“Not often. But Wizarding clubs tend to steer away from certain clientele. Don’t you find?”

“I guess I do, yeah.”

“Potter, you’re shaking.”

“I know.”

“Let’s get some air.”

“No, Malfoy, let’s dance.”

There was a small laugh, the same laugh that had tormented Harry for years. He’d never realized that he’d missed it. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.” Harry turned and caught Draco in a fierce kiss even as he started to move again to the beat he had momentarily lost.

They managed for the next few songs to grind together on the floor, kissing and exploring before Draco lost all sense of self-control and dragged Harry bodily into the loo. There was one stall open at the end of the row; clothes were already being torn by the time they managed to get inside and close the door.

Draco managed to tear his lips away from Harry’s long enough to shove the Gryffindor chest-first into the wall of the stall; he gave a needy moan as Harry presented his firm arse with so little prompting. He licked the length of Harry’s neck, enjoying the salty flavor of sweat.

Harry had one arm on the wall in front of him and was maximizing his leverage to get that perfect angle where he could feel Draco's full prick through their layers of denim. His other arm was twisted behind him, working as fast as he could to get to flesh.

Suddenly Draco's hand was tight around Harry’s prick, squeezing just right and Harry didn’t know what to do with his hips, did he drive back to the cock he was desperate for, or did he rut forward into that perfect grip? He could only hope that he would be faced with that kind of dilemma everyday.

“I want your arse,” was whispered hotly into his ear, followed closely by that needy little moan that was going to drive Harry mad on the nicest possible route.

“Why don’t you get over here and take it then?” Harry challenged, loving the way the hand on his prick lost its rhythm for just a moment. He’d broken Draco's concentration for just that short period of time; it felt like he’d won something. He couldn’t wait for the prize.

Harry’s trousers were suddenly around his knees and lubed fingers were toying with his opening. “Trust me, Potter,” Draco breathed against his neck, kissing and licking as he went. “You’re the one who’s going to be taking it.”

Harry nearly wrenched his neck as he turned to claim Draco's mouth in a fierce kiss that was more heat than finesse. “Shut up and prove it then,” Harry challenged, loving the fiery glint in Draco's grey eyes. And then his world went white for a moment as Draco pushed two fingers into him unceremoniously. “Oh, you bastard,” Harry said in the middle of a moan.

“Tease,” Draco nearly growled.

“I promise you I’m not.”

Teeth sunk into the sinew of Harry’s neck, prompting his hips to cant of their own accord, riding the fingers that were stretching him.

“Now,” Harry demanded.

“You’re not ready.” Draco was panting, using every drop of restraint he had.

“I’m ready enough, I want your cock in me, and I want it now.”

Draco's sexy little moan came again, this time with a bit of a whimper at the end of it.

Harry managed to finally work the awkward angle and he dropped Draco's pants and trousers and worked his hand around the impressive, hot flesh. He guided Draco's prick towards him even though they both knew Draco needed no help with that.

Draco grabbed both of Harry’s hands and led them to his own arse, “Hold yourself open,” Draco demanded in a hoarse whisper.

Harry leaned his chest to the wall and presented his arse as well as he could, holding himself open and panting in anticipation.

Draco coated himself liberally and lined himself up, pushing into Harry’s tight channel as slowly as he could. He had no idea how he or Harry managed to remain standing through the achingly slow entry. But once he was fully seated inside of Harry, he felt like he could go all night, like there was something more to the connection than just the physical. It was a very new experience for Draco, and he wanted to feel it for as long as he could. He pushed slowly, rocking gently at first, trying to make it last. But then Harry started pushing back, nearly dancing on Draco's prick and that last tether of control snapped like a too-dry twig. The next thing he knew, his hips were snapping as he was pounding into Harry. His hands were leaving hot, angry scratches as he inadvertently clawed at Harry, seeking to get just that much closer.

All the while Harry kept driving right back onto him in wild abandonment. “Fuck,” Harry breathed.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Draco snarked back.

“Stop a second, the angle is all wrong.”

“What?”

“Pull out, just for a tick, I swear.”

Draco pulled out and felt the loss immediately.

“It’s too small in here for me to bend enough,” Harry said, turning. “Sit down.”

“What?” Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then Harry put his hands on Draco's chest and pushed him to sit on the loo. Draco was about to complain, but then Harry pulled one leg out of his trousers and straddled Draco's hips, plunging down onto Draco again. “Oh fuck Merlin, that’s brilliant!” Draco heard himself exclaim.

Harry just looked down with a fierce glint in his green eyes, “That’s it, right there,” he panted as he rode Draco as hard and as fast as he could.

They shared another lingering, scorching, claiming kiss and then Harry threw his head back and called out like a wild animal as he came all over Draco's chest.

The sight of it was too much for Draco and he fell into orgasm faster and harder than he could ever remember before. It hit him with such force that he was left in a panting stupor for a few moments until his heart regained some sort of natural rhythm. When he opened his eyes he saw Harry, still on his lap even as he grew soft within that gorgeous body, a dopy smile on his face, his eyes half closed.

“Mmm,” was all Harry could manage right at that moment.

“Come to dinner with me,” Draco said, without any idea where the thought had come from.

Harry’s eyes opened even though his pupils were still dilated, and he smiled the sweetest, gentlest smile Draco had ever seen in his life; and then he simply nodded.

***

Dinner was an odd event, especially because every time Harry moved he was reminded of just how it had been with Draco; add that to the fact that they seemed to be actually starting something and Harry was just a bit out of his depth. But the conversation was enjoyable and the food was wonderful and the flirting was fun and relaxed.

“I feel like I should ask you back to my place,” Harry said when they were out on the sidewalk, adjusting their coats against the rain.

Draco smiled and leaned in closely. “I should really get back,” Draco said, his lips millimeters from Harry’s.

“Okay.”

“I do want to see you again.”

Harry couldn’t help the quick smile. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Draco leaned in that last little bit and caught Harry in a deep kiss, hands roaming, uncaring of the pouring rain. “Friday night?”

“Why wait? How about tomorrow?” Harry asked, breathless.

“Tomorrow is Friday, Potter,” Draco said, the smirk obvious even though Harry’s eyes were still closed from the kiss.

Harry opened his eyes as a small blush rose. “Well then I guess Friday would be fine.”

“Not going to get in trouble at the Ministry for hanging out with me?”

“Who cares? And, for the record, I’d like to do more than hang out.”

“Thank Merlin for that. I’ll meet you at seven?”

“Sounds grand. Where?”

“There’s a little bistro three blocks up. Do you know it?”

“Yeah.”

“Meet me there.”

“I’ll see you then.” Harry leaned in and kissed Draco again, he really liked kissing Draco Malfoy, a fact that was both wonderful and perplexing. He also really liked the way Draco was grabbing hold of his arse with a hand that was cold and wet from the rain. “You sure you don’t want to come back to my place?”

“Don’t tempt me, Potter. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Draco gave Harry one last, quick kiss and Apparated out.

Harry felt slightly dizzy and he was covered in gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

***

Work seemed long that Friday, Ron was off to Australia with Hermione and he was so looking forward to seeing Draco that night that the day just dragged on.

The call came in just after lunch. Malfoy Manor was in flames. Harry Apparated out first, so worried about his new lover that he could barely breathe.

And then he could barely breathe for another reason. The air was thick with black smoke that was billowing out of the shattered windows of Malfoy Manor; flames were licking their way up the stone, consuming the building.

“Steady on there, Potter!” Finley called after he’d arrived. “I’m not telling Weasley that my first day as your partner I let you get yourself killed!” He was shouting over the roaring flames.

“We have to look for survivors!”

“Not while it’s burning like that. Once the flames are down a bit, we can go in with a Bubble Head Charm, but with a blaze like this, not even the best Flame Freezing Charm will stop this with just the two of us! Wait for the others!”

“Waiting means people die!”

“Draco Malfoy is the only human in residence right now, he’s a slippery guy, he’s out of there by now!”

“You know as well as I do that this was started by Death Eaters we haven’t found yet!”

“Potter, we wait! They will be here in seconds!”

Harry was about to go in anyway, but as if on cue, every Auror in the division and every Fire Control Agent Apparated in and got right to work firing off spells. As soon as there was a clear doorway, Harry ran into the still-burning building.

He waited until he was around a corner, shed his outer robe and felt his body shifting. The heat of the inferno melted away to the simple warmth of a sun-filled day. Harry knew that it wasn’t from the Fire Freezing Charms that were being fired off all around the building. He also knew that he didn’t have long before the others followed through that door; he had to find Draco and he had to do it quickly.

He didn’t know the house, but with his altered vision he could see better then anyone who had simply walked into the house on a well-lit day when the house had every light on. He searched room-by-room, listening intently for a heartbeat from anywhere. He worried momentarily for the house-elves, but he knew that Winfrey was one of the Aurors who had come in and knew that he and Hermione had spent hours talking about house-elf rights, so he knew that Winfrey would make sure to evacuate the kitchens.

He swooped through the smoke, dodged the flames and rose higher and higher. He was quickly becoming frantic and there was no sign of Malfoy.

The timber in the roof was creaking and cracking above him, nearly ready to collapse from the flames incessantly raging against them. There wasn’t much time left and Harry knew it.

He thought he heard a scream from down below, down towards where the main hall was located. He turned quickly, fighting against the heat that was trying to push him up, he pulled himself in tight and powered down through the heat and smoke.

The acrid curtain of smoke was thicker than Harry thought it should be and he ended up getting smoke in his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision. But he saw a flash of white near the ground floor and pushed on.

He was nearly to the floor, nearly through the last of the smoke when he heard the deafening crack from above. The sound, like thunder, seemed to roll. And then Harry realized that it was rolling as the timber above fell like nothing more than a child’s set of dominoes.

He had seconds to act, he extended his talons and, gently as he could under the circumstances, picked up what had been the flash of white and soared through the door.

He fell to the ground, rolling with his too-light victim onto the soft grass.

“Potter! Did anyone see Potter get out of there?” Finley was calling out over the frenzy, trying to look at the faces of those running from the quickly falling manor.

Hot ash was everywhere, raining down in reds and greys and leaving angry marks where they landed on bare skin. More and more was flying into the air as each subsequent apex succumbed to the blaze. Harry was dazed, but had just enough energy to switch back from his Animagus form and call out weakly, “I’m over here.”

Somehow Finley heard him and was beside him in an instant. “Potter, stay still until the EMW gets over here to look you over. What the hell were you thinking running in there?”

“Is Malfoy alright?” Harry said, surprised at how raw his voice sounded.

“We haven’t found him yet. Potter, if he was in there, there’s not going to be anything left to find but ash. He’s a crafty guy, I’m sure he got out of there in time.”

“But if Death Eaters set the fire-“

“We don’t know anything yet.”

“Who did I bring out?”

“What?” Finley suddenly looked very worried for Harry’s state.

“I brought someone out, but the smoke… I couldn’t see who it was.”

Finley looked around carefully just as a large, soot-covered bird made its way to Harry and perched itself on his stomach. Harry looked at it a moment and noticed one red feather on top of the dirty white. “Oh my god,” he moaned, defeated.

“What’s wrong? The medics will be here in a moment.”

“The bird. It’s one of the Malfoy’s bloody peacocks. That’s what I pulled out of the fire.”

“Are you sure?”

Harry picked up the loose red feather. “This is mine. I was in Animagus form in there.”

“You’re an Animagus?”

“Yeah. Ministry thought it would be a good idea to keep it a secret.”

“And that’s yours?”

“Looks like it.”

“What the bloody hell form do you take, mate?” Finley asked, incredulously.

Harry couldn’t help the small laugh, “Bloody phoenix.”

Finley smiled at that. “Now that’s rich.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get hurt in the fire.”

“Still a daft thing to do, running in there like that. You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days.”

“Says you. I’m alright.”

Just then the medics made their way over and began examining Harry, firing off spells quickly. But they had to work around the poor, traumatized peacock who would not leave Harry, no matter what anyone tried. Harry just smiled and petted the bird; he told everyone that they had to deal with it.

By the time Harry was cleared for work, Malfoy Manor was little more than a shell of sooty stones.

“Come on, Potter,” Finley held out a hand to Harry, “let’s get back to the office. There’ll be a mountain of paperwork after this. Hope you’ve a sharpened quill.”

Harry took the offered hand and stood up, allowing the peacock to perch on his arm. “I’m not worried about the paperwork, Finley; I’m worried about where the hell Draco Malfoy is.”

Finley sighed. “I’ve done this job a long time now, Potter, and I’m telling you that he’s got out of there. Probably off hiding with his mum and dad, if you ask me. Like I said, he’s a dodgy one. Don’t you think on it.” He slapped Harry on the back and started walking to the Apparition point where they had come in. “Oh, and Potter?”

“Yeah, Finley?”

“Leave the damned bird.”

Harry smiled a bit, then petted the bird gently. “He’s right,” he said to the peacock, “I’ve got to go back to work. There will be someone here form the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures here in a bit to round up the rest of your friends. You don’t want to miss your ride, do you?” He put the bird down and trotted to catch up with Finley.

Just as Harry was getting ready to Disapparate there was a weight on his back and the feel of talons in his flesh, but it was too late, he couldn’t stop it. The talons were still in his back when he felt the squeeze of Apparition.

***

The bullpen was a buzz of activity when Harry and a laughing Finley made their way up there. Harry still had fifteen pounds of white bird perched on him.

It didn’t matter how busy or stressful the day had been for the rest of the Aurors, they had all heard what had happened at Malfoy Manor, and they all saw the white bird. And they all, to the last, burst out into hysterical laughter.

Harry tried to ignore them and went off to his desk, bird still perched on his shoulder.

“Potter?” Graves, Head of the Auror Department, was trying his best not to laugh as he approached Harry.

“Yes sir?”

“I assume RCMC is coming for him sooner rather than later?” Graves said, nodding to the peacock.

“Yes sir, sorry sir. He jumped on my Apparition.”

“Finley told me. Just promise me you’ll be careful; my sister once saved a robin from a cat, damned thing imprinted on her and never left her side from that day on.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good man, Potter.” Graves was still smiling as he walked back to his office.

As Harry sat at his desk and finished his paperwork, the peacock seemed to get a bit bored. It hopped down off of his desk and started looking around a little bit; but Harry didn’t worry because the bird seemed disinclined to leave his sight even as it grew adventurous.

“Honestly, Potter, you have the worst luck with birds,” Auror Josh Harvey gave Harry a sly smile. He’d been hitting on Harry for weeks, but Harry hadn’t shown any interest. “That’s why you should come out with me tonight.”

“Sorry Harvey, I have plans tonight.”

“Going to give it another try with Weasley’s sister, are you? Come on, Potter, I’ve seen the way you look at her, there’s nothing there. Moreover, I’ve seen how she looks at you, like someone starving; there’s no way you’ve ever shagged her.”

“Harvey, that’s enough.” Harry’s temper was flaring and his coffee beaker was trembling on the desk.

“Come on, I’ll show you a good time,” feather light touches caressed Harry’s neck.

Harry was about to fire off what was sure to be anything but a witty retort when suddenly there was an ear-piercing screech and a fluttering sound. The peacock had his tail feathers fully displayed and his neck stretched out. There came another deafening call as the peacock flapped its wings furiously and charged at Harvey.

All eyes of the Auror Department were on the spectacle that was the bird and the two shocked Aurors.

“Potter!” Graves came out of his office, furious. “What the bloody hell is the matter with that animal?”

“I have no idea, sir,” Harry answered honestly.

“Moore hasn’t sent anyone up yet?”

“No sir, but they’re probably not done at the scene yet.”

Harvey’s hand was suddenly on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, sir, I was just over here offering my assistance.”

The noise came yet again, this time the bird was rushing at Harvey, wings and tail extended, frightening the fully-trained Auror into retreat.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what’s wrong with him!”

“I don’t care what’s wrong with him, Potter, get him out of here; he’s becoming a nuisance.”

“Yes sir, I’ll take him to Diagon Alley, see if I can get someone to look him over.”

“I don’t care what you do with him, Potter; just get him out of here.”

“Right, sir.” Harry was in totally over his head, he had no idea how to get the peacock out of the Ministry and into Diagon Alley. “I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Graves walked back to his office, distinctly not smiling this time.

“Right then, come on bird, let’s go.” Harry figured that it was best to start off with the easy way. When the bird just looked at him, he held out his arm. “Come on, you’re causing a scene.” To his endless surprise, the peacock flew right up and perched on his arm, his tail feathers relaxing back into a beautiful train of snow-white, soot-marred feathers.

Harry just shook his head and headed out.

***

It was some hours later when Harry was done at The Magical Menagerie and walking back to his flat on Diagon Alley. The peacock was strutting purposefully by his side, cleaned and silvery white plumage extended and with a little extra strut in his strut. Harry’s arms were loaded with everything he’d been told he would need, from a box of cat food and a six foot high perch, to an enormous potted geranium. Harry felt like an idiot. And the passing people seemed to think he was too; especially when the damned peacock would puff up and let out another banshee-esque wail.

He just hoped that he could get into his flat without any more undo embarrassment.

***

George was out in the front of the store, he was usually in the back but Martha had called out with a sick little one and there was no one else to cover. Thankfully she hadn’t called out next week after the Hogwarts letters were meant to go out; they would be insanely busy for two weeks after those went out.

Then again, insanely busy was better than most days that just dragged by. If it weren’t for the lab, George would go barking most days. But then Harry would drag him out of the lab for a pint down the pub, or he would innately know when the silence of the flat was getting to be too much and there would be a knock at the door and an offer to try a new restaurant or a new recipe. That was the great thing about renting a flat to Harry, he understood the dual edged blade of the silence.

And thinking of Harry, George noticed that he was walking down the sidewalk. Harry wasn’t due out of work for hours yet. Worry started to build in George’s gut. Then he saw the dirt covering Harry and that tiny spark of worry started to spread.

He dropped the Pungent Pasties he’d been stocking and ran out the door. “Harry?!”

Harry stopped where he was, his shoulders sagged just a little bit. “Hey George.” Harry didn’t turn around.

“You’re back early, mate. Everything all right?”

“It wasn’t such a good day.”

“What happened? You weren’t hurt, were you?” In an instant George was by Harry’s side, inspecting him.

“No, I’m all right. Look, why don’t you finish in the shop, I’m going to go clean up and--”

“Harry, what is all this you’re carrying?” George seemed to notice the odd assortment in Harry’s arms for the first time. “And what the bloody hell is that?” he asked, smile blooming as he pointed at the proudly presenting peacock.

“It’s… it’s… a long story,” Harry said with a sigh. “Right now, all I want is to take a hot shower and get into some clean clothes. I have somewhere I have to go tonight.”

“Taking your bird out?” George asked with a straight face.

“You know, it’s a peacock. There have got to be more jokes about a gay bloke with a peacock, who has a fabulous tail then just continually asking about his bird… wouldn’t you think?”

“Ouch, you did have a bad day, you’re never that catty. And since when do you call yourself a gay bloke where anyone but me or the guy sucking your prick can hear you?”

“Like I said, it’s been a long day. Can you just keep an ear out to make sure he doesn’t ruin my flat?” Harry asked, motioning towards the still strutting peacock.

“Harry, you don’t even have to ask, you know that. Of course I’ll make sure he doesn’t wreck the place, I’m your landlord.”

Harry rolled his eyes and started towards the door. “Come on, bird.”

“He’s not going to follow that,” George laughed.

“He has all day. I got him out of a fire; Mr. Crockerpot at Magical Menagerie thinks that he’s imprinted on me. Graves thought the same thing.” As if to prove Harry’s point the peacock walked to the open door and started hopping up the stairs. “He could be magical, but there’s no real way to tell.”

“Can he do anything useful, like carry mail?”

The peacock gave an indignant wail.

“Just that. Over and over again. Have fun while I’m out tonight.”

“I will silence that bird faster than it can… What do peacocks do?”

“Honestly, George, I’ve no idea.”

***

Harry tried not to be in too much of a hurry in the shower, he knew that he had an hour or two more than he had originally planned, but he was so damned anxious.

All day he’d been looking forward to seeing Malfoy, never had it crossed his mind that Draco might not show, not after last night, not after they had shared that much passion. And then that damned alarm had gone off.

Though Harry had to admit to himself that he was happy, for the first time, that the Ministry had access to Apparate onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Harry remembered fighting against that; fighting that Draco had more than paid for what had happened that last night at Hogwarts; fighting for Draco to have all freedoms allowed to a never-convicted Wizard in England. Harry had lost. The occupation of the Manor by Voldemort was too much to contend with; the Manor, secluded as it had been for all of those centuries, was now considered a threat to Wizarding Security. The Ministry was given the ability to Apparate right up to the Manor, though not inside; that much humiliation was at least spared.

But had that been enough? How long had the blaze gone unchecked before the alarms were triggered? Too long, that was for certain. And that raised another question; one Harry hadn’t let himself think of before: why hadn’t the alarms gone off sooner? Buildings under Ministry protection, as Malfoy Manor was now, were supposed to be warded against attack. How had someone gotten in and disabled the security wards without the Ministry knowing? What Death Eaters were still lurking within the Ministry?

Harry hated himself for thinking it. He’d been one of the ones leading the charge to clean up the mess after The Battle of Hogwarts. Just after the battle Harry had chosen those he trusted and they had gone through the Ministry with a single-mindedness that frightened some and probably should have frightened a whole lot more; the Order was a truly fearsome thing these days. He’d been so sure that they’d gotten the last of the Death Eaters. How could they have missed one? Or, worse yet, how many had they missed? Who had been the asp in the nest?

Harry was dressed faster than he would have liked and had managed to work himself into quite a frenzy.

“Where is he?” he asked the peacock.

The peacock just bleated at him and left the room in a huff.

“Cheers, glad you picked me!” Harry called to its retreating tail feathers.

He let himself fall backwards onto his bed and do the worst thing he could do, he let himself think about it.

There wouldn’t be any answers unless Malfoy showed up tonight. But neither would there be a moment’s rest for Harry.

***

Six o’clock came and Harry was waiting at the agreed-upon location, or almost; he was at the edge of the alley next to the Bistro, hiding under his Invisibility Cloak. He couldn’t be sure that whoever had set that fire wouldn’t be here waiting as well. He hoped with everything he had that Draco would show up; he used all of his Auror training to watch the street for anyone who looked out-of-place.

Time ticked by, every second finding Harry in a more agitated state than the last.

By ten, when the bistro turned off the lights and locked their doors, Harry had moved on to a cold fury.

***

George popped his head out of his door when he heard Harry on the stairs. “Your landlord is thinking of invoking a new rule: no peacocks! That bloody bird is a menace! Did you know that- Hey, Harry, what’s wrong?”

“I may have to leave for a bit, George, I’ll find a place for the bird first, but –”

“No.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Harry. No. You’re not going anywhere, not with that look in your eyes. I know that look.”

“I don’t know what--”

“That’s the same look you had just before you went off into the Forbidden Forest. I know that look, I’ve seen it. And I know that you had it last when you went off to get yourself killed. You managed it too, if you remember.”

“I remember.”

“Good.” George was pale, his jaw was set. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“There’s something I have to do.”

“Like bloody hell there is! You think mum can stand losing another son? That I can stand losing another brother?”

Harry had to stop at that, he hated it when George pulled the ‘You’re Family’ card, that damned perpetual ace in his sleeve.

“What happened today?” George was suddenly right in Harry’s personal space. “Just bloody talk to me.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to answer the question when he heard a terrible crash from his own flat. “I’ll be right back.”

“Harry!”

“I promise you, I’m just going to check on that sound.”

“If I don’t see you in ten minutes--”

“I won’t be getting my security deposit back.” Harry turned and walked into his flat. He knew that George wanted to go with him, but this was an act of trust.

The lights were all off in the flat; that was the first thing Harry noticed. He never turned the lamp by the sofa off, it was his quirk, his little rebellion against years of his aunt and uncle screaming that he had to turn the light off. His wand was in his hand faster than he realized he’d pulled it.

“I mean you no harm, Mr. Potter.”

Harry knew that voice in the darkness, but he couldn’t place it. “Then why are you in my flat uninvited?”

“I was hoping you know where my son is.”

“Mrs. Malfoy?”

“Yes.”

“I’m turning on the lamp.”

Once there was light spilling throughout the room and everything was once again in focus, Harry saw Narcissa Malfoy sitting on his armchair, looking calm. She didn’t even have her wand drawn. The peacock was sitting on the sofa, so still it seemed like a statue.

“I don’t know where Draco is,” Harry admitted.

“Draco?”

“Unless you have another son I’m unaware of.”

“I was unaware you and my son had become friendly.”

Harry fought a losing battle against his blush. “Recently,” he tried to convince himself his voice hadn’t squeaked. “In fact he and I were supposed to meet up tonight. I was hoping he would manage to get there.”

“You don’t believe he’s dead?” There was a fearsome challenge in Narcissa’s voice.

“I don’t know what I believe. I’m not going to lie to you, if he somehow was trapped or got stuck in the Manor, he’s dead. On the other hand, I’m not giving up hope.”

“Are you on the case?”

“I was one of the first responders, but I don’t know who will officially get the case.”

“I want you on it. You spoke on Draco's behalf to the Ministry at his trial, you’re an… acquaintance of his. Too many in the Auror Department will try to sweep this away; thinking that because Draco bore the Dark Mark what happened was no less then he deserved. I want to know what has happened to my son.”

“I want that too,” Harry said honestly. “And I would greatly appreciate any help you could give me.”

“You believe I know something?”

“We both know that this was done by someone we haven’t caught yet. I was hoping you had a name. Something, anything.”

“If I did know, Mr. Potter, I think you are well aware that I would not be in the home of an Auror right now.”

“At least I know that Draco came by his thirst for revenge honestly enough,” Harry said with a small smile. “At least promise me one thing?”

“That depends on what you would like.”

“If Draco catches up with you, let me know. I need to know he’s alive.”

“I can’t take that risk.”

Harry stood up and moved to the fireplace; there was a small vase there. He pulled a golden feather out of the vase and handed it to Narcissa. “Just send me this in any way you see fit. I’ll know what it means.”

Narcissa raised a single eyebrow in a way that Harry was sure meant something that he could never decipher. “Is that one of mine?” she asked, nodding toward the peacock; changing the subject.

“Yes he is. I pulled him out of the fire and now… he’s imprinted on me according to everyone who knows anything about birds. Would you like him back?”

“Rather difficult to travel with a peacock. But I have always been partial to them, such beautiful creatures.”

“As soon as the grounds are declared safe I was planning on taking him back to Malfoy land.”

“Mr. Potter, if he has imprinted on you, then he will not stay. They are very clever creatures.”

“Clever and noisy,” Harry joked.

“I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Narcissa rose from her seat, all perfect grace and balance; one more thing Draco had gotten from her.

“Please.” Harry held out the feather again.

She didn’t say anything, but she did take the feather and gave one, single, graceful nod of her head. And then she Disapparated and was gone.

Harry sighed feeling deflated, and walked back over to George’s flat. “I’m starving; what do you have to eat?”

***

One week later, there was nothing new in the case. Harry was working insanely long hours, trying to find anything that would lead him to the perpetrator. Graves kept trying to find a way to kick Harry off of the case; he was certain that Harry was too close to it, but Harry was the only one who was really making an effort to find out what had happened.

Harry came home, long after any hour that was considered decent, and flopped onto the sofa with a bag of take-away. “How was your day, bird?”

He was in the middle of sharing his pork fried rice with the peacock when there was a knock at the door. He pulled his wand and stalked slowly over.

“Potter, it’s me, open up!”

Harry pulled the door open, but didn’t stow his wand. “Harvey, what do you want?” he asked his coworker.

“I thought I’d stop by and offer you a drink.” He held up a bottle of Old Ogden’s Firewhiskey. “Interested?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s late, I’ve had a long day--”

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” He gave a cocky smile and pushed his way in. “Nice place.”

“Harvey--”

“Call me Josh, we’re not at work. Do you have glasses?”

“In the kitchen,” Harry said in resignation. He held out his hand to show Josh the way.

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Josh looked smug as he walked out to the kitchen. “I thought we could pretend to talk about work for the first few drinks, is that alright with you?”

“There will be two drinks, maximum,” Harry corrected. “And we will be talking about work.”

“Whatever you say… Harry.” Josh hit the kitchen door open with his bum and gave Harry his flirtiest smile. “Whatever you -- What the hell is that?” Josh sounded frightened as he stopped short.

Harry looked beyond Josh to see the peacock’s plumage fully presented. And then the shrill cry filled the air.

“I thought you were going to get rid of that thing!”

“I can’t, he’s imprinted on me; he’s here to stay. Besides, he’s not bad company.”

“He’s a dirty, filthy bird. And that noise, how can you stand it?”

“He doesn’t do it often, not since…”

“Harry? Harry!” Josh was backed up against the wall, the peacock still advancing on him in a very malicious manner.

“Bird, knock it off,” Harry said distractedly.

The bird nipped at Josh’s robe hem and then flew angrily up to Harry’s shoulder, long train of feathers trailing across the width of his back possessively.

“That thing is a menace.”

“He doesn’t normally act like that; I think maybe he just doesn’t like you.”

“Thanks for that, mate.”

“Look, Josh, it’s getting late; I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s the weekend.”

“It is?”

“Honestly, Potter, where is your head?”

“In the case, Harvey, where it’s supposed to be.”

“You’d be better leaving the case at work,” Josh said angrily. “And that drink? Never mind about that.” With that Josh Harvey turned and walked right back out of Harry’s flat.

“If I didn’t know better, bird, I’d think you did that on purpose.” Harry’s jaw cracked with a yawn. “Come on, it’s time for bed.”

***

“You’ve gone barmy,” George said as he poured the coffee.

“Why?” Harry asked defensively.

“You’ve been walking around here talking to that bird all morning. I swear you two are having a conversation.”

“I’m talking to a bird, you’re hearing a conversation, and I’m the one who’s gone barmy? I talked to Hedwig all the time, you never thought I was a nutter then.”

“Yeah, but this one doesn’t even have a name yet, you keep calling him ‘bird’.”

“Well, that’s because, after much soul searching and deliberation, I have realized that I am utter shite at naming things.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because, every time I try to call him anything other than Bird, he yells at me.”

“You need to get out more. When is the last time you went out and just had fun?”

“Two weeks ago, just before… before this case started.”

“Then you should do, and soon.”

“George, do you believe in The One?”

“The One what?”

“You know what I mean, that one person, your soul mate, or whatever. Do you believe in that?”

George heaved a big sigh. “You don’t half ask the hard questions, do you?”

“I thought it was kind of an easy one.”

“Not really. I mean, think about it, my whole life, literally, I had someone else there.” George swallowed back the lump that had grown suddenly in his throat. “H- he was there every moment of every day from the time we were born. We played together as children, we went to school together, joined Quidditch together, started a business together, left school together in grand fashion and fought in a war together.” George didn’t realize when the tears started to fall. “Soul mate is a very different idea for a twin. In a lot of ways your twin is your soul mate, but in a lot of ways they’re not. We would talk about everything, even what idiotic names we would try to name our future children. I was going to be best man for him and Angelina. Did you know that they were engaged? Not many people did; not after mum went spare over Bill’s engagement, there was no way we were telling anyone yet. But he asked and she said yes and I was going to throw him the most fantastic stag night in history.

“So you see,” George didn’t even bother to try drying his eyes, “we had a witness, we had love – brotherly though it was – but we didn’t really have The One in each other; more like half of The One.”

Harry was unsure of what to say to that; George so rarely opened up about the loss of Fred, so when he did Harry was lost.

“Your toast is burning.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a smile as he jumped up to save his breakfast.

“So what brought all that on?”

“All what on?”

“Harry, why did you ask me if I believe in The One?”

Harry sat back down with toast and jam for both of them, the coffee pot floating along behind him. “I think I might have found mine.” He tried to sound casual. “And that’s why I’m not going out.”

“You really have gone mental, mate. You do realize that the whole point of finding The One is to then spend the rest of your life with them. Happily ever after and all that. You sitting around here, or burying yourself in your work isn’t out there getting your happies in your happily ever after.”

“You remember the night Ron and Hermione left?”

George nodded.

“Ginny was there--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, please don’t tell me you’ve decided you’re soft on our Ginny again.” George looked like he wanted to bang his head against something large and solid.

“No! I mean, I love Gin, you know that, but no. She had the same effect on me she always does; sent me running right for the nearest gay club.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

“Too right. Anyway, he was there.”

“And why haven’t I met him yet?”

“Because the next day he went missing.”

“Ah. So he ditched you? Doesn’t sound like much of one, let alone The One, if you ask me.”

“He didn’t ditch me. George, he’s Malfoy.”

“Malfoy? That slimy, two-faced, no good Death Eater? That’s who you’re hung up on? Bollix to him! He doesn’t deserve you! I’d sooner lie down and die then see any Weasley, blood or not, in the arms of that Gorgon-souled bastard!”

“Keep your voice down, you’re scaring Bird,” Harry said gently as he petted the cringing peacock.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. George, you don’t know him.”

“And after one shag you do? Has it occurred to you that you could be bespelled?”

“He didn’t cast anything on me. And it’s not just the shag… that was bloody brilliant though.” Harry got a bit of a dazed look in his eyes for a moment. “Anyway,” he said, shaking out the cobwebs, “that’s not it.”

“What is it then? Because I remember that ferret from school and he was about as nice as a manticore and cuddly as a blast-ended skrewt.”

“I saw him… well I guess I always saw him, from that first time we met when we were eleven. But I saw the torture he went through with that mark on his arm. He didn’t want it, not once he knew what it meant. He never actually committed a crime--”

“He let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts!”

“I know. But he did it because they were holding his mother. Voldemort would have killed her; you know that. He was no more guilty than the hundreds who did nothing when the Ministry was taken.”

“It’s different.”

“It’s not, George. You say that because you fought; because you were strong enough to stand up. But not everyone is that strong, especially when their families are threatened. And at the Battle of Hogwarts, you know that he finally picked the right side.”

“Saw we were winning is more like,” George muttered under his breath.

“These are all the same reasons I spoke up at his trial. Add to that, my visions through Voldemort gave me a unique glimpse of what the Malfoy family went through that last year. I’m not claiming he’s innocent as a newborn babe; I’m just saying he’s not the evil git we all wanted him to be.”

“And now you’re in love with him?”

“I don’t know when I started thinking about him, probably right from the start, that first time I thought about blokes when I was wanking. But when he started dancing with me… I can’t explain it; I just knew.”

“You sound like a bint,” George said teasingly.

“Probably. I never was a proper bloke you know,” Harry replied in mock seriousness. “All of that magic nonsense, that’s what started it off. Mark my words, Mr. Weasley, no good will come of me.”

***

Harry woke the morning Ron and Hermione were due to return, three weeks after the fire at Malfoy Manor, three weeks without so much as a whisper that Draco had made it out alive, and yet Harry was certain Draco was alive somewhere.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your perch?” Harry asked, his voice rough from sleep.

Bird looked up blearily from where he had settled on Harry’s chest.

“Honestly, bloke can’t even start off his day with a proper wank with a fifteen pound bird on his chest. Besides, I’ve been reading up and you’re supposed to like sleeping on your perch. I think you’ve a defect or two, poor dear.” He absently stroked the soft white feathers of Bird.

“Ron and Hermione are due back today, you’ll get to meet them at last.”

Bird tensed.

“Oh, come off it, you’ll get on famously.” Harry yawned widely and stretched, displacing Bird, who screeched indignantly and flew off to his perch. Harry just smiled like he’d won and got more comfortable under his blankets.

His hands started to wander before he really even registered what he was doing; his mind was whirring, seeming to center on the mystery of Draco Malfoy. The shift to remembering the feeling of Draco's hands on him, his greedy mouth wandering, seemed to come naturally; Harry was pleasantly erect and warm under his blankets, it felt like the perfect way to start his day.

He caressed himself, enjoying the slightly tickling sensation of the lightest touches; he imagined that Draco would touch him like this the next time when they had all the time in the world.

His head rolled back as he arched into the gentle attentions of his hand on his shaft, feeling the solid weight of his filled cock. A small moan slipped past his lips as both his breath and his hand sped up. He heard a phantom echo of that little mew Draco made in the back of his throat and it made him all the more needy.

“Do it again,” Harry panted. “Make that noise again, Draco.”

He reached down from playing with his nipples to stroke his perineum and tease his hole. He remembered Draco's nimble fingers stroking him, opening him, making him ache to be entered. He remembered that sharp heat of stretching to accommodate Draco's girth, the way he’d felt so perfectly filled by Draco; Draco who was in him and all around him.

Suddenly he couldn’t hold back anymore, he was coming in hard, hot pulses that left him shaking and panting and wrecked.

He lay there, wishing he could be in a blissful sweep of afterglow. The orgasm had been fantastic but it left him feeling empty.

“Where the fuck are you, Draco?” he demanded to the air around him.

Bird started screeching and flapping his wings.

“Oh, hush you; if you had opposable thumbs you’d do the same damned thing,” Harry muttered as he stood and walked to the bath to get ready for the day.

***

“Harry!” Ron shouted happily at the International Portkey Department within the Ministry that afternoon.

Harry was all smiles as his best friend came up and gave him a big bear hug. “Where’s Hermione?”

“She’s staying back for another week to spend some time with her mum and dad. They aren’t sure they want to leave and she isn’t sure she wants to force the issue, or some such. Department of Mysteries said she could take a while longer so long as she studies for… whatever the test is.”

“They told her to study?”

“I know, total nutters, she’s going mad; but it makes her happy. How’ve you been?”

“Going spare with a case.”

“You’ve got your own case already?” Ron was both impressed and jealous. “What happened?”

“Someone torched Malfoy Manor.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Property can be saved, but a family member has to be there to reset the wards.”

“Is Malfoy in St. Mungo’s then?”

“No. He’s missing.”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” Harry said, trying to sound like there wasn’t a lump in his throat.

“So the ferret’s in the wind; I didn’t see that coming.”

“No one knows where he is. And I mean no one,” he gave Ron a meaningful look.

“So you’ve heard from--”

“No one I would get in serious trouble for talking to, but yeah. They want to know where he is too.”

“Do you think he’s dead?” Ron’s voice was serious.

“Honestly? No, I don’t. But I don’t have any proof.”

“Any remains found in the Manor?”

“Plenty, but none that match his magical signature.”

“And how do we know his magical signature?” Ron prompted.

“Because his original wand wasn’t in the fire,” Harry said, patting his chest where his wand holster hung.

“Oh, right. I’d totally forgotten that.”

“Ron, it wasn’t even a year ago; how do you forget a thing like that?” Harry asked, incredulously.

Ron just shrugged. “Come on, let’s go for a pint and you can catch me up.”

***

“So now you have a peacock?” Ron looked at Harry like the aforementioned peacock was sitting on his head.

“He’s kind of adopted me; and I rather like having him around. It’s comfortable.”

“Aren’t they really loud though?”

“He is sometimes, yeah. Has one hell of a temper.”

“So he really is a Malfoy then?” Ron said, laughing at his own joke. “I assume he’s incredibly high maintenance.”

“I think you got too much sun in Australia.”

“Alright, tell me about him, you’re clearly gagging to.”

“It’s just nice having a pet. He hates Josh Harvey, by the way.”

“The Ravenclaw ponce? Who can blame him?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“What?”

“The Ravenclaw ponce, Ron, it’s mean.”

“It’s descriptive, it is,” Ron said proudly. “He’s always nosing around you, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t mind it when it’s women doing it,” Harry pointed out.

“Course not, I’m the one taken, not you. I don’t mind making scarce so you can score a bit of fluff.”

“Ron!” Harry scolded.

“But it’s also my duty to keep out the undesirables.”

“And whose job is it to decide who’s undesirable?”

“Harry, I’ve been your best mate since we were eleven, I know your type.”

“I don’t think you do, Ron.”

“You like fiery Quidditch players with strong hands and stronger thighs,” Ron said triumphantly.

“That’s true,” Harry clinked his glass to Ron’s.

“See, I know you.”

“Good on you. Harvey doesn’t qualify.”

“Too right he doesn’t,” Ron agreed.

“But Malfoy does,” Harry said, full Gryffindor bravado outside, quivering jelly inside.

Ron burst out laughing. “Good one mate! I nearly snorted my beer!” Ron wiped the table where he’d spilled some of his pint and had a realization. “You’re not laughing.”

“No.”

“Why aren’t you laughing, Harry?”

“Because I wasn’t joking. He and I got together right after you left and I was hoping it would get serious… I’m still hoping it’ll get serious; I just have to find him first.”

“You’re taking the piss,” Ron accused.

“I’m not, I promise. Ron, I’m gay.”

“No you’re not. I would know.”

“Why would you know? Because you’re my best mate?”

Ron nodded, slightly dumbfounded.

“You still couldn’t know what I didn’t tell you. You couldn’t know what I didn’t want to tell myself. I’m sorry. I’m going to get back to work. I hope you’ll come round my place later, but I’ll understand if you don’t for a bit.” Harry rose and squeezed Ron’s shoulder on his way out of the pub.

***

Harry was sitting at his desk, trying to keep his mind on the case, but finding himself torn. He was missing something, he knew it.

Would Ron ever talk to him again?

Why hadn’t he heard from the Malfoy’s? Surely Draco had contacted his parents by now.

Had he just lost his best friend?

What if Draco really had been as devious as everyone thought?

What if Ron thought Harry wanted him? That was too disturbing for words.

What was he missing?

What if the last joke he heard from Ron was that piss-poor one about Bird?

Where was Draco?

By six he was no closer to any conclusions, he’d spent the entire afternoon chasing his own tail. He changed into his jogging clothes and took the long way home; Bird could amuse himself for an extra half an hour while Harry cleared his head.

By the time he got home, it still wasn’t any better.

He stabbed his way through dinner, ignoring Bird’s best attempts at gaining his attention, and went to bed early and nearly too tense to sleep.

***

Harry was running through a hedge maze, nearly like the Third Task from forth year, but not quite as menacing. There was an eerie grey light over everything and a thick mist in the air. Harry tried to cast Point Me over and over but it wouldn’t work, his wand would just spin and spin in his hand like it was trying to gain enough lift to fly away. He heard scuttling and cast Lumos just in time to see a rat’s tail disappear around the next corner.

Suddenly the walls of the maze were stone, not shrub and Malfoy was there in front of him.

“Draco! Draco, I’m here,” Harry called as he ran over. “I’ve been looking all over for you, where have you been?”

But Draco acted like he couldn’t see Harry, his eyes were focused on something else, something farther away, over Harry’s shoulder. “What did you think was going to happen here?” Draco said, his voice like ice.

There was a laugh from behind Harry, but he found that he couldn’t move suddenly, he was frozen in place.

“I think I’m going to finish the Malfoy line once and for all,” the owner of the laugh taunted Draco. “You’re the only one here; you’re Lord of Malfoy Manor. And once you’re dead, it will be mine.”

“You want the house?” Draco asked incredulously. “It’s in desperate need of a decorator; and do you have any idea how much it costs to heat a place this size? Honestly, I doubt you could afford it on your salary.”

“It’s not the upkeep I’m worried about,” the taunting voice said again. “In fact, I’m more than willing to tear it down brick by brick to get what I want.”

“It’s not here,” Draco said calmly. “I’ve made sure of that. I’ve been busy cleaning the skeletons out of the closet, as it were. Though in one case that was quite literal, I assure you.”

“Enough!” the voice snapped. "I want the Emerald of Salizar!"

That’s when Harry noticed them, the chains. They were so big, so heavy, how could he not have noticed? How could Draco have stood under their weight? The bonds tightened harshly on Draco's neck and wrists.

“I’ll try to convince you one last time. Tell me where it is.”

“Die twice.”

“Crucio!” the voice cast the Unforgivable with barely a raise in volume.

Draco began screaming.

And then the peacock was screaming.

***

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat like he hadn’t showered after his jog. He was panting and trying to catch his breath. The peacock was on the pillow beside him, also panting and looking like it was moments from falling over.

Harry’s adrenaline-aided synapses were firing faster than they had since the end of the war.

Bird had been inside the house. He didn’t trust any of the other Aurors, just Harry. He constantly presented when anyone but George was in Harry’s flat. He’d been nervous when Narcissa Malfoy had been there. He slept next to or on top of Harry, never on his perch. He ate bacon and toast but never the cat food peacocks were supposed to be mad for. He hated Josh Harvey.

But it was the dream glimpse of a rat’s tail that convinced him.

“Draco?” Harry asked Bird. “Draco, is that you?”

Bird nodded.

Harry was up in a second, not even bothering with slippers or a dressing gown of his own, he wrapped Bird – Draco, he wrapped Draco in the blanket and Disapparated to St. Mungo’s.

***

“Do you know how he got stuck?” Mediwizard-in-training Zabini was asking.

“I think so, but I’m not certain. I think he was starting to panic after this much time in Animagus form, and he tried to do Legimency on me. But I’m not sure if I got it right, it was all very disconnected.”

“I can imagine. His brain isn’t as big in this form.”

“Don’t tell anyone he’s here,” Harry said quickly. “Not until he’s better.”

“Potter, I’m one of Malfoy’s few friends not in Azkaban, I’m not about to leak this and get him killed.”

“Can you get him back to human form?”

“Tell me what you think happened and I’ll have a better handle on it.” Zabini conjured two cups of tea and sat down with Harry to hear about his odd dream.

Harry told him every detail he could remember, far more detail than for an ordinary dream that would naturally fade the longer Harry was awake.

“So he was bound and put under Cuciatus?” Zabini said when Harry was done.

“That I remember, yes.”

“Malfoy started work on becoming an Animagus in forth year, when he saw how useful it was for that leech Rita Skeeter. But to my knowledge he never perfected it.”

“Human nature is to get out of a situation like the one he was in. Is it possible that his natural instincts of self preservation gave him what he needed to succeed?”

Zabini thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not. Might even explain why he got stuck. If he didn’t have complete control… well, it’s rather like splintching yourself isn’t it? Total control or total catastrophe.”

“But you aren’t sure?”

“Potter, I could be totally sure with a fully-trained Mediwizard here or a few days to research. We can’t afford either right now.”

“I know!” Harry snapped. “Let’s just… let’s just get him back.”

“He might not wake up right away; he’s been through a lot and working magic in Animagi form--”

“I know, that’s why I brought him here. Please, Zabini.”

Long minutes later, they were standing beside a hospital bed with an unconscious peacock in the center, still wrapped up in Harry’s bedclothes. The spell was complicated and Harry was the only assistant, but there was finally a silver shimmer in the air around the peacock’s form.

And then Draco Malfoy was in the middle of the bed, looking weary but alive. Zabini put Malfoy into a Bewitched sleep so that his magical levels could restore themselves. He tried to talk Harry into leaving the room, but Harry would have none of it.

Two hours before dawn, Harry slipped momentarily into his own Animagus form and plucked a single feather from his own tail to send to Narcissa Malfoy.

***

It took two days for Draco to start to stir, start to fight off the Bewitched Sleep as his own magic returned to normal. Two days of unbelievable stress for Harry and Zabini both as they tried to keep Draco's presence a secret.

There was a fluttering of white blond lashes and a flash of grey as Draco finally began to wake.

“Draco?” Harry was at his side in an instant. “Malfoy, can you hear me?”

That long, pale throat began to work as Draco tried to make his body obey what he was telling it to do. There was a slight rasp and a frustrated roll of grey eyes.

“Here,” Harry brought a cup of chilled water to Draco's lips. “Sip it slowly.”

Draco did as he was told and then collapsed back onto his pillows, exhausted. “I said,” his voice was little more than a raspy whisper, “that it bloody well took you long enough.”

Harry couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face. He leaned down and gave Draco a gentle kiss. “Sorry, I’m a Gryffindor, you know how dense we can be.”

Draco smiled as he drifted back to sleep.

***

It took another few days for Draco to be awake long enough to give Harry an official statement about what had happened that day at Malfoy Manor, including the only piece of information that hadn’t translated through the shared memory of Legimency, the identity of his attacker, a Death Eater who was still free in the Ministry.

Harry strolled into work the next day, desperate for a shower and with three day’s beard on his chin, but he was a man on a mission.

“Wow, Potter,” Harvey called across the bullpen. “Dig the bohemian look.”

Harry didn’t say a word, just headed right for Graves’ office and shut the door behind him.

Curious glances were exchanged as office scuttlebutt desperately tried to catch up to whatever had happened. Speculation was a wild, untamed thing and gossip moved faster than the speed of light; but it didn’t need to, Potter and Graves were behind closed doors for well over an hour, plenty of time for theories to grow unhindered by logic.

At the end of the meeting Potter left the bullpen, still without a word to his fellow Aurors, and Graves looked as somber as his name as he once again closed the door.

Just as the rumors were becoming truly outlandish, Harry came back; he was still unshaven, but at least now his clothes looked fresh and his hair was damp from a shower, his mood also seemed improved. He nodded a friendly hello to a few and dropped by Harvey’s desk to exchange a few flirty words. No one in the bullpen heard just what Harry said, but suddenly Harvey was blushing furiously and leaning in just a little closer.

Then Harry leaned in really close, close enough that his lips brushed Harvey’s ear. Harvey was all smiles, nodding along to whatever it was Harry was saying, well aware that all eyes were on them and loving the attention.

And then, suddenly, Harvey paled.

Before anyone had time to wonder why, Harry had flipped them and was securing Harvey’s arms behind his back. Four Unspeakables Apparated in and took Harvey from Harry. And then, like someone had turned on the volume of the wireless, there was a cacophony of outraged noise.

Harry ignored it and went back to Graves’ office.

***

It was another week later when Draco was released from hospital; George was thrilled to see Harry helping Draco up the stairs to his flat. He ordered enough food to feed a Quidditch team and knocked on the door after work that night.

“I come bearing gifts,” George said with a smile as he handed half of the bags to Harry.

“How many are you planning on feeding?” Draco asked, dubiously eyeing the bags.

“Weasleys are firm believers in feeding the infirmed.” He pointed to his own mangled ear. “I gained five pounds after this because mum wouldn’t stop feeding me.”

“And you never got off the couch,” Harry added.

“I was injured!” George said in mock indignation.

Harry laughed and went back to the kitchen to fetch the plates.

George didn’t say a word, just leaned over and refilled Draco's glass; it was a start, it was enough.

There was a knock at the door halfway through dinner; it was Ron and a freshly tanned Hermione. Harry refused to move from beside Draco, and after a few moments of furtive looks and blushing, Ron got over it. And then it was like nothing had really changed.

***

“Tonight wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be,” Draco admitted as he and Harry climbed into bed that night. “Granted, I was surrounded by Gryffindors, but it could have been worse – I could have fallen in love with a Hufflepuff.”

Harry turned then and fixed Draco with an intent gaze. “Did you just say…?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but he nodded.

Harry smiled and kissed his lover gently. “Me too.” His kisses grew in intensity as he straddled Draco's hips. “We’ll have to go easy for a bit,” he said, more reminding himself then telling Draco. “But once you’re better…” Harry leaned in with a scorching kiss that sought to possess Draco.

Draco couldn’t seem to mind a bit; in fact he’d rather enjoyed having Harry take care of him, and now he could look forward to it everyday.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is an excerpt from the poem Two Feathers by Thorkild Bjornvig  
> enormous thanks to my lovely beta Morgana, who worked her ass off for this fic – it wouldn’t be here without her and that is not an exaggeration.


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